


The Defensive Strategies of Doctors

by izzyb



Series: Trouble With Toys [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:11:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyb/pseuds/izzyb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 2300 hours and McCoy is finished with his shift and ready, just as he told Chekov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Defensive Strategies of Doctors

McCoy glanced at the chronometer for the tenth time that evening and cursed himself once again for doing so. The sickbay had been slow ever since he had seen young Chekov and performed the rather intimate probing of his body. He felt a chill go up his spine at that. When he had held onto his arm for dear life and moaned his name when reaching his peak….

He shook his head, annoyed with himself. Leonard wasn't even sure if he was going to see the kid when he finished his shift at 2300 hours. He had more important things to do with his time off, such as drink good whiskey and be annoyed by what crazy-ass scheme Jim had thought up that day. If he hadn't done much intimate probing outside of the sickbay in the last year, he did not need to rectify that with an underage ensign. Who was also under him in rank.

Under him, God.

McCoy ran a hand through his hair and glared at the screen where he was currently updating patient files to the library computer. While the last few hours had been ass-numbingly boring, the eight before that had been full of blood and excitement, up until Chekov, er, Pavel had appeared in front of him. He really was tired. Tired of the same red-shirted bodies being brought in to patch up. Tired of saying the same warnings about disease, destruction, and the dangers of space to the same people and still receiving the fruit of those warnings in his pristine sickbay.

He was damn good at what he did, he knew that. He also knew that he had earned his place here, and that any hospital on any planet would still have casualties of war, disease, and danger.

It was just that being stuck in the confines of the ship was making him stir-crazy.

Thus his reaction to one Pavel Chekov. At least that was the explanation he was giving the rational part of his brain that was saying "what the fuck are you doing messing around with this kid? How could you ever justify corrupting (making him come) a young innocent (who was definitely not-so-innocent with toys like that)."

He had felt the admiring look the kid had given him as he was finishing up with the last redshirt. And he wasn't sure what to do about it. Yet he knew what he wanted, at least his body knew what he wanted and was screaming loudly at him to do something.

And so, his shift ended, he finished inputting the day's labors, and he walked out of sickbay with purpose.

And right into Pavel Chekov.

"Umph…so sorry sir." Chekov took a step back and tentatively smiled at his doctor. "You said 2300 hours, correct?"

"Yes. I did." McCoy shifted a little, wondering exactly where they were going with this.

They didn't say anything for a minute, though it wasn't exactly an uncomfortable silence. Instead, McCoy checked out his young admirer, noticing he had showered recently as some of his curls were still a little damp and his cheeks were flushed from the heat. Or possibly, he was aroused, which would be amazing considering how much he must have come from that blasted toy.

He colored even more under the doctor's close scrutiny until the older man wanted to see how far down that flush went. He also wanted grab one of those damp curls and tug on it, just because he could.

When he took a step closer to Chekov to do just that, he realized just where they were. Outside sickbay, in public. His arm went down as he opened his mouth to say that they should go somewhere else, but Chekov beat him to it.

"Sulu is on the bridge right now," he said in an undertone.

"What?"

"My roommate is gone for at least four more hours. You should go with me to my quarters." With the instructions duly given, Chekov walked quickly away in that direction. McCoy waited for a moment, then followed him, trying not to appear too obvious.

He arrived a few minutes after Chekov and entered after realizing that the light was green above the pad. Chekov stood still in the middle of his room, looking at him expectantly. _I am ready for you_ his expression screamed at the doctor. He cleared his throat.

"Have anything to drink?" he said, looking around the room. It was very clean, no clothing strewn haphazardly about, bed made, liquor decanter out with two glasses sitting neatly next to it. Oh, someone had been orchestrating this in the past few hours since the memorable trip to see him.

Chekov bounded over to the liquor, pouring a generous amount in both glasses and handing one to McCoy. He sniffed the glass, realizing it was vodka, which really didn't matter. It was alcohol and it had been a rough day. They raised their glasses into the air silently, then threw them back into their respective throats. It burned going down, but in the pleasant way good liquor does. He can hold his alcohol, McCoy thought, that's one thing that makes him seem older than he is.

"Want another?" he was asking, but the doctor shook his head and placed his glass on the table next to the decanter.

"You don't need to get me drunk."

"Yes, I know, but you just seem so tense. Well, you seem as growly as you usually do, but this time it is focused on me." Chekov took a step closer, then another. "And I would rather your attention be focused on me for other reasons."

He was close enough to touch now, so McCoy decided that was the best thing to do. He did what he wanted to do outside sickbay and started with his curls, grabbing one and stretching it out until it was straight. He did this over and over, staring Chekov in the face, wondering that he was thinking.

Chekov must have grown impatient with this as he grabbed his hand, put it around his body and then put his hands in McCoy's hair. He also tugged, like he felt he had the right, but the doctor didn't mind, not when that lithe body was pressed up close to his.

He took advantage of the close quarters and touched his lips to Chekov's. They kissed, much as they did earlier, but a little less desperately. This was a kiss of exploration, discovering what was good for each person and going with it. McCoy broke from the kiss to lick his lips and steer Chekov towards the bed he assumed was his. It must have been the correct one, or he didn't care, because he fell down softly on it, grabbed McCoy's head and resumed their make-out session.

"Chekov" he murmured, one hand in those curls and one grabbing that rounded ass.

"It's Pavel," was the clear response to this, but it did not reach McCoy's distracted brain very quickly that he had said anything. Instead, he pulled off the ensign's shirt and his own in quick succession. This prompted Pavel to rid himself of his pesky pants and wrap his long legs around the doctor.

He really did blush all over. With the clothing out of the way, McCoy could see the pink flush all over his light skin. He leaned up on a much tanner muscular arm and brushed a finger over one of the nubs on his chest, watching the resulting shiver and smiling slowly. He had thought this encounter would be something quick and dirty, rough, and over too soon, kind of like what happened earlier on the bio-bed. However, this was more fun. He did not expect to be so entertained by the kid.

Pavel thrust upward, pulling McCoy out of her reveries and back into the moment. He put his hand firmly on his hip to stop the thrusting, but softened the touch by leaning down and nibbling on his nipples. At the firm touch, Chekov tried to buck up even more, but was unable to move very far with the strong arms holding him down.

"Wait, wait, want to do you." Pavel bucked up harder, pulled McCoy down into a deep kiss with tongue and teeth until he lessened his hold on him and allowed him to flip them over so he was on top and McCoy under his wriggling weight. He pinned him down, hands to shoulders, and grinned, pleased with this new situation.

"Yes, this is much better." He kissed and bit his way down his chest until he reached the line of his pants. McCoy lifted his head up from the narrow bed to see exactly what Chekov was up to, then groaned and put an arm over his face when he realized he was working on the fastenings.

"You really are a surprise, Pavel Chekov." There was no response to this statement of fact, except for a more urgent tugging on the regulation trousers, as if there were suddenly a difficult problem the boy genius had to solve.

His eyes were closed, but he could feel hot breath going lower as his pants lowered. The situation grew a little more surreal as he realized just where he was and who he was with, but all was forgotten with the slow lick of Chekov's tongue. He seemed to know what he was doing, what he liked, because he could feel himself getting harder with each stroke and straining upwards.

When his cock was engulfed by his ready mouth, he resisted the urge to thrust, didn't want to hurt him. The hands were not idle, either, but danced around his balls and ended up grabbing his ass and squeezing in rhythm with the talented mouth. Had he really thought Pavel was innocent? Just as he was getting desperate for release, Chekov stopped and sat back on his heels, the tease.

McCoy used his frustration to pin Pavel back onto the mattress and attack his mouth with his own. He stopped to strip him of his briefs and stroke the erection trapped between the two of them, muttering "lube" into his ear as he did so. He let him go long enough for him to reach in the drawer next to him (yep, definitely his bed) and pull out a tube. Entering Pavel for the second time that night with his fingers, he prepared him, stroking in and out to the sound of keening under him.

"Please, doctor, please, just fuck me. I am ready." He was saying exactly what he wanted to hear, but a quick tug at his rampant erection and the resulting groan to his probing proved he was not a liar.

"The name is Leonard," he said as he lined his cock up to Pavel's waiting and ready anus.

The first thrust was a slow one, meant to prolong the agony that Pavel had started but his reaction to the sounds the kid made, along with his steadily growing flush proved that McCoy was not immune either. He kissed him, tongue mimicking the progression of his cock, not slowing down with either until Pavel stopped tensing and relaxed around him.

"Your ass is quivering around me, was so ready for me. Did you think of me when you bought that toy? Was it for me?"

Chekov bit him on the chin, but he did answer. "Yes, I imagined it was you, fucking me like you are now."

"God, when I found out your reason for coming to me, I almost lost it. Then watching you come in front of me. So fucking hot." He moved then, fucking him a little harder into the bed, for his own pleasure, but realizing that Chekov was enjoying it too.

He felt a hand snake between them to touch himself and moved faster, licking and sucking any of the skin he could reach. This continued, the reciprocal give and take until he was so close that he could feel himself shaking. Pavel smiled up at him then, grabbed his mouth, biting his lip and McCoy lost it, emptying himself into the tight ass beneath him.

Trying to catch his breath, he reached down and stroked the still-hard cock poking into his stomach. It only took a few strokes and few hot words and Pavel was coming too, still flushed, still breathing his name. His real name this time, not his title.

They collapsed next to each other on the narrow bed, exhausted. He couldn't believe it was coming out of his mouth but he said it anyway.

"Do you have any more toys?"


End file.
